Return
by e.clare33
Summary: 5 Years after A La Mode, Tokyo Mew Mew has been all but disbanded, the alien threats of Earth gone. But someone none of them have spoken to in years shows up, interrupting the life they have all become used to. Based mostly off of Manga and the Japanese original Anime, sorry if some details are wrong. Rated M for language, told from multiple POV. Review and follow!
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Zakuro POV

I walk slowly through the darkened, silent streets. My breath condenses in the air, white puffs floating lazily into the sky. I carry the metal brief case tightly in my hands, darting my head around to check the alleyways that are hidden in the shadows of the elaborate and ancient buildings. I hear the patter of footsteps behind me. I freeze, and spin around, seeing the seven men in black. My eyes narrow. I turn and run.

I keep slipping on the icy streets, my heels not helping. The men are fast approaching behind me. I don't even have to turn around this time. I pass the tree, and slip.

"AH!" I scream as I land on my arm, the brief case sliding out of my reach. I try to crawl to it, but someone steps on my wrist, eliciting a scream again. The rest of the men skid to a halt around me, circling me. I look up at them, my eyes wide with fear.

"You are ours, 'Princess Kreskov.' Did you really think you could get away with acting as Russian royalty in our own embassy, spy? You're coming with us." The man on my hand mutters in a deep Russian accent, rubbing his foot into my wrist as I wince.

"Sorry boys, not today." I spring up onto my feet, grasping the ankle of the man crushing my wrist and dragging down in place of me. I take the guy closest to me by surprise, kicking him lightly in the shin. He collapses over in pain, howling. Parrying back the other men until I'm corner against the short stonewall protecting pedestrians from the Neva River. I glance down at the icy waters, choppy and gray, while I try to remember what I'm supposed to do here_. Is it the goon on the left, or the right? _I sigh and just go with the left. As I wind my arm up to punch him, a scream breaks the grunts and clatter of the fight.

"CUT!"

We all stagger out of fighting stances. The actors playing the goons groan, grumbling at me. This is the third time I've screwed up this relatively simple action scene. I sigh and snap to my assistant. He scurries over and hands me a cigarette, taking out a lighter with smooth precision gained from practice and lighting me up. I take a deep drag from it and blow the smoke into the night sky.

"God, Zakuro, this is the third time you've screwed this up. You block the whole camera when you take the Max instead of Sasha." Dean McIntyre is staring at me in disbelief. "I know it's been a long night, but for God's sakes, get your head out of your ass!" I stiffen and stare at Dean coldly.

"This bullshit project is ridiculous. How do you expect me to remember any of the shit you tell me when I do almost the same thing in every scene! I don't even know why I signed up for this shit. I just wave my ass around and then punch the same douche in the face." I growl aggressively.

"You're the actress. Learn how to memorize blocking correctly. Don't be a little shit." Dean's face is getting red. I purse my lips.

"I need a break." I flick the cigarette into the Neva to accent the bitchiness of that sentence. The goons groan and clamber off into the tents, where cheap coffee and dry pastries await them.

Dean sighs. "You know what, why don't we just stop for tonight. Everyone head back to the hotel." The camera and light guys laugh in relief; packing up the equipment quickly to get out of the St. Petersburg cold. A million assistant directors and production managers race towards Dean to complain about how off budget and schedule we are. As I begin to walk away, Dean stops me.

"Zakuro, I don't want any of this shit tomorrow, you hear?" I swallow my pride.

"Fine. Whatever. I'm taking a limo back." Joshua, Katy and Remy step in line with me. "Did I get any calls?" Joshua nods while Remy slips a soft fur coat over my deep maroon evening gown costume. Josh messily pulls out an iPhone from beneath the pile of clipboards filled with calendars and meeting plans.

"Photo shoot tomorrow for Marussia Motors… and Letterman wants you as soon as you can get back to New York… I think filming should be done here in about a month." I nod.

"Thank God. I can't wait to get out of this frozen ass town."

"Zakuro, as your publicist, I would advise that you try to bitch out at your director behind closed doors. The paparazzi are supposedly hot on this movie." Katy says, replacing Joshua at my side as he dials into a phone call for car service.

"I know Katy, I know." I groan. "You don't have to remind me ever fucking day." She rolls her eyes.

"Remember, you have to video conference with Spielberg about the series project he wants to talk about." I curse under my breath

"Remy, how is my makeup? I apparently have a video conference to attend."

"Your hair is _merde._ I'll touch it up when we get there." Remy muses.

"Great." I almost walk into the street, stopping abruptly at the curb. "Joshua, where is the car service?" I snap at him.

"R-right there, Z." A black limo slides up to the curb little seconds after we stop. I glare at him, and then open the door to reveal lavish black leather seats in a full-size limousine. I slip into the car, my makeup artist, publicist and, assistant sliding in behind me.

"Grand Hotel Europe." Katy says at the driver. He nods, glancing back at me in the rear view mirror as he pulls off. I glare back at him. He turns back to the street quickly. I glance at Remy, and see him stifling a laugh. Katy flips open an a leather planner, tapping on the glossy surface of the cover with her cherry red fake nails, and begins to fill in the free time left on my schedule. I look back to Remy, trying to see if he has time to talk, but he's already busily tweeting or texting. Hopeless to try to get his attention now. Settling into the plush seats, I slowly let my head roll back, and fall asleep.

* * *

After I take a bath, I gingerly step out of the porcelain bathtub onto the fluffy bath mat lying on the flawless marble floor. I can hear Katy and Joshua in other parts of the gigantic suite, flipping paperwork and screaming into phones. I wrap the bathrobe around myself. I dry my hair with another white towel, looking in the mirror. My almost purple-black hair has broken into tangled wet strands, lying limp. It shows the true length of my hair, almost down to the middle of my arms. I run my fingers through it while I try to dry it further. I stare at the bags under my violet eyes. Remy will have his work cut out for him tomorrow. From outside, I hear the suite door suddenly knock.

I wait tentatively it to be answered, but I only hear Katy still arguing. "Hey Katy! Someone is at the door! Katy!" I yell. No one answers. "Josh? Remy?" Still, just arguing. I sigh and step out into the suite's living room in my robe and with a towel.

The elegant room is warmly lit by chandeliers and antique lamps, oriental rugs sprawling under the hand carved wooden furniture. The flat-screen is playing a muted Russian entertainment news, talking about the movie, only being watched by the gold and amber furniture. The paneled walls shine with glossy with paint and siena wall paper. The room, my home for the last three months, always smells like roses for some reason. I pull my hair into a messy bun, hoping to look a little less terrible, still trying to pat it dry. "Who is it?" I ask. No answer for a while. I turn to walk away, thinking that they probably left. I hear a quiet,

"Room service." I sigh and open the door.

"You could have just said that in the first place, saved us all some time-" I start to say, then stop. My mouth drops open slightly, my towel dropping from my hand to the floor. The slender man with steely blue eyes and blonde hair slowly steps into my suite.

"We need to talk Zakuro," he says in Japanese.

* * *

Hope you guys enjoyed it! I will probably be posting more either the weekend or early next week. Again, please favorite, follow and review :)


	2. Update 1

Sorry for the huge gap guys! Definitely updating tomorrow. Sadly, not full break in NYC, but at least we have one day off tomorrow! Check out my Yj fanfic I worked on today (*cough cough* instead of this)!


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**Ichigo POV**

****I sit glumly on my couch, watching some stupid game show. The instant ramen I was eating has long since cooled, and the wispy, finger-like steam has stopped frothing from the top of the styrofoam cup. I try to cuddle further into my three blankets and sweater, but the heat the general lack of heat in my apartment has travelled far into my bones.

"Stupid crappy heater." I mumble. I look out the window onto the balcony of my small, cramped apartment. Chiba City is covered heavily in snow, blanketing the busy, gray outside quietly. I've been inside almost all of winter break, and the boredom is killing me. My hand drift to my hair, and I feel the oily-dirtiness of it. I'm disgusting myself. I jump up suddenly, scaring Lulu so bad she mewls and scampers off into through the books stacked precariously around my apartment into my bedroom.

"Time to get active!"

After I shower, I stare at myself in the mirror. My skin is a friendly bright red from being scrubbed. My strawberry-blonde hair is almost down my shoulders. I'm so glad I decided to grow it out. I smile a little at myself in the mirror, then immediately frown when I notice my half naked body.  
It's flabby. And pale.

I touch my stomach. I remember when the Mews were still together, I had a perfect, flat stomach. I was always exercising, fighting aliens. The best kind of exercise. Now a little muffin hangs over my sweat pants. My arms bulge out a little bit too much, and my face is much rounder. For some reason, I quickly take off my sweats and take a peek at the now very faint Mew Mark on my inner thigh.

I hop into a peach colored sweater with a corresponding peach fuzzy feel, and a pair of old jeans. I sadly pat Lulu on her gray head. She's gotten really attached to me since the beginning of break. I was almost gone all day when college was still in.

Knocking over old essays and scrapped poetry, I grab my bag and stuff my laptop and a notepad into it.

Before I leave, I glance innocently at the picture of us I stuck in my hall mirror. The newscasters surprised faces were obvious, and my young and fresh face is smiling in front of a gaggle of young girls in vibrantly dressed costumes. I reach out to bring it, but then just frown and walk into the white world outside.

Inside the small cafe, I inhale my coffee quickly while staring absentmindedly at the people rushing by in the gray slush so I can get working again. I promised Mr. Nakamura that I would format this month's submissions for the magazine as soon as I could and send them back to him so the newest edition would be out as soon as school was back in. He says the reason he barely pays me is that I never return what he wants on time. I guess that's understandable.

I boot up my old Macbook and purse my lips as I wait for the familiar Apple logo to flash. It bothers me that I've never been able to submit. I'm not even good with technology, but I really wanted to do something. Every submission, I either scrap because I know it's crap or I get rejected. I've never told Mr. Nakamura I've ever wanted to submit either. I'm sure he would offer to help me, then never would. He's just so busy. I sigh loudly.  
I open all the submissions and my formatting software, only having to jiggle the computer slightly this time as the screen flickers slowly on and off. At least it turned on this time. I rummage through my bag for the scheme papers.

Oh god.

I bring my brown leather bag up to my lap, almost sticking my whole face in the bag, fingering through a jumble of lip balms, old receipts, and tampons to find only my notebook. I groan, my head landing in my hands, the bad dropping back onto the tiled floor.

What was the color scheme? Oh god. I forgot the color scheme papers. He's going to kill me.

I slam the laptop shut, shaking my flabby arm and the table slightly. The cashier glares at me, and I awkwardly smile at him. He rolls his eyes. I cough, and pick my bag back up.

Phone time.

I take out my cell phone and dial my mother. We have a nice conversation. It has no importance or relevance to what's actually happening in my life, but it's nice. It gets my mind off of how much I suck for a while. She asks the obligatory Mom questions, "How is break?" "How are you doing?" "Is it cold?" I answer all of them as best I can without making her worry about me. As soon as I hang up, I quickly press the familiar number one on my favorites.

Ring  
Ring  
Ring

"... Uh... Hello?" I hear a sleepy voice answer.

"Masaya!" I answer brightly.

"Oh. Hey Ichigo." He yawns. I listen to the scratchy noise of blankets being pushed off as he repositions himself to be sitting up. Masaya hates talking lying down. "What is it? It's like three o'clock in the morning here."

"Well, I was just saying hi. No reason really." I say quieter.

"Okay. Well." There's an awkward silence.

"I forgot-"

"Can you just-"

We both stop, then laugh a little. But the sick feeling in my stomach is crawling up again.

"You go first." He says, more awake now.

"Oh, I was just sawing Mr. Nakamura will be angry at me because I forgot the color schemes for him when I went out to work, so I can't send him the finished magazine. How's England? Saving any ducks." I can hear him smile slightly over the phone.

"That sucks. And it's okay. Rainy." Another silence makes me want to throw up.

"Hey, can you just call back later? I have to go back to bed, busy tomorrow." I swallow.

"Sure. Love you!" I say, so hopeful it's almost sad.

"Okay. Bye." The line goes dead, and I drop the phone back in the bag.

I glance out the window again. It's snowing again. The dark skeletal trees contrast brightly against the fluffy snow floating down. The smaller branches, only twigs, stretch out to the white sky. I grab my notepad, and  
start my endless process of scribbling words then crossing them out.

Winter  
The trees seem so  
But they still hope sometimes all the time

Him  
I hate that we never  
Fuck you because you never want to ta

I huff, frustrated, my eyes almost watering. end up just crumpling the paper and throwing in into the bag. I shuffle back to the counter.

"Do you have croissants?"

The man stares at me sadly. I furrow my downlooking eyes. I hate it when they feel pity for me.

"Sure. Chocolate, almond and-"

"I'll have three chocolate croissants." He raises his eyes slightly, but I don't react. He brings me back the white paper bag, and I just put down a ten, walking away back to my table in the corner.

I bite into one of the fluffy, buttery croissants as I curl up in my seat, my knees put up. I go back to staring out the window, thinking of girls in brightly colored costumes jumping through the trees.

* * *

Hopefully be posting another chapter tomorrow or later today... who do you want to see next?


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Berry POV

"Mixed berry cheesecake with a hot chocolate and a small mint tea!" I smile sweetly at the girls, laying down their snacks with a clink.

"Thank you so much!" They squeal.

"Awe! So cute," The one with a choppy black bob says. "I just want to keep it forever." She extracts the little bunny on a toothpick from the cheesecake, gooey red remnants of the berry mix slightly splattered on the paper bunny's white face. I smile fondly at the bunny.

"Rabbits are my favorite animal!" I giggle slightly. The other girl, with long, thick, curly hair that floats around her face is staring at me in awe. I blush slightly, which makes her in turn.

"Sorry... I just love your hair." I glance at the nearly platinum blonde hair, still neatly tucked into bangs and swept up into a tight bun from the morning.

"Eek. Thanks! Yours is much better. Mine is way too straight when it's down." I smile a little at her.

"Oh no. I bet it's great down or up. I would die to have hair like that." I blush.

"Berry! Stop socializing and get over here!" I hear Keiichiro yell from the kitchen. I hear a couple girls swoon when they see his head poke out from the window separating the kitchen and dining room. I'm taken again by how similar he looks to when I first met him. His jaw is wider and he looks more tired, but his glossy brown hair is still pulled into the thin ponytail down his back. His eyes are much harder now too. I think he took it personally when Ryou left two years ago. He should have seen it coming. Ryou has too much of an adventurous spirit just to be a cafe owner. Isn't this what Keiichiro always wanted to do anyway? I bite my lip and bow quickly to the girls.

"Enjoy your meal girls." I rush off, gliding through the double doors, narrowly avoiding Aoi while she carts off the fresh pastries, girls ravenously eyeing the silver cart as is passes them. I can almost imagine them scratching each other's eyes out for a little taste of what's inside.

"We have twelve orders going out of the new blended vanilla pudding." Natsuko races by us with a giant fragrant tea set, the delicate china making a slight jingle as she walks briskly out of the steamy kitchen into the sweet smelling front of the house.

"What do you need from me?" I expertly follow Keiichiro's zig zagging path from station to station, helping, consisting of mostly yelling orders, other pastry chefs busily working on their delicious sweets.

"Akio said he had to go. Something about his mother in the hospital, probably just an excuse to get out of work." I frown, wondering how Keiichiro doesn't remember that Akio's mother has cancer. "Plate them, then put them on the line. We're really in the weeds today. Get to it." He quickly disappears into the flurry of white cooks uniforms and sprinkles.

I rush to the plates on the stainless steel metal counters, the colorful flavor blended vanilla puddings already in their small dishes on ceramic plates. I whip out the caramel, jellied and chocolate sauces, twirling and spinning out each onto the twelve puddings with precision. I make dainty loops, flowered designs, even small pictures. I start to smile. I love when he assigns me to garnishing, or really any cooking. I quickly wipe any splashed left on the plate, licking my finger slightly to taste the sweet caramel. I groan. Great, as always. I quickly powder the sugar on top of each and slide them up to the line.

I ring the bell, the ding reverberating through my fingers.

"Natsuko! Twelve blended vanillas ready to go." I call at her as she hustles by, replacing a large silver tray.

"Damn. These things are popular." I see her lick her lips slightly. "And tasty." She stand with her head askew, hands on her hips.

"Sure are. If they weren't good, we wouldn't sell them." I hurry back out from the back of the house into the crowds of young girls, grabbing a couple of menus and politely leading a large group to a round pink table.

My feet ache at the end of the day. I sit in the dressing rooms on the upper floors on one of the elegant benches. Aoi, Natsuko, Gina, and the rest of the girls are fooling around, running around in their bras, throwing the pillows already strewn across the room at each other.

I let my hair fall down. Most girls think that this is the best job in the world. A hot boss, almost infinite delicacies, adorable uniforms, and pampering and spoilage like they've never experienced. I still don't believe how rich Ryou and Keiichiro must have been to get this place done. I know a lot of secretive companies funded the Mew Project, but I doubt they expected the over the top bakery to still run after the project had been disbanded. It was a waste of money. Now at least seven empty rooms lie in the colorful hallways, all empty except for flowered wallpaper, and one with a sad little bed in it, Ryou's old room. This is not mentioning the waste of space the gutted and boarded up basement is. No one even knows about it besides me and Tasuku. No more Mews work here besides me.

"Hey!" I jump slightly as Natsuko collapses on the bench beside me. "Long day, huh?"

"Definitely." She stretches herself out over the bench, her torso falling off, leaving her brown hair to pile on the floor. I glance at her, only in bra and panties, as I pull off another black boot.

"Shouldn't you be getting dressed?" Her orange uniform is discarded somewhere in the corner of the room. "Also, remember how many wrinkles that thing had last time when you just left it there?" She sighs.

"Fine, Mom, I'll hang it up."

"Oh, shut up." I bump into her, soon stripping away my cream colored uniform. She laughs and flounces over to her dress.

When all of the girls are finished, we hang around the dining room a little, waiting for the report from Keiichiro about how we need to step up our game. Janitors with mops work grumpily around us.

"Look who's back from final delivery!" Gina says in a singsong voice.

I glance to the back of the room. Of course, he's there, looking disheveled and as cute as always. He's leaning casually against the wall with the other delivery boys, and I can tell he's purposefully avoiding looking into the crowd of giggling girls so he won't see my blonde hair sticking out like a sore thumb.

"I still can't believe you broke up with Tasuku." Maki says with disbelief. Natsuko and Gina nod in agreement.

"Shh!" I hiss at them. "That was over a year ago. We're okay now." Maki laughs.

"Maybe you think so... try asking him." I glower and spin away from them, waiting for Keiichiro just to get on with the damn meeting.

"That boy is fine."

"I would want him delivering sweets to me!" I hear Natsuko titter. They giggle, and my face is surely tomato red at this point.

"Wait... where's Keiichiro? It's almost a quarter to six! The meeting is always done by five forty." I hear Aoi say. I realize it is a little late.

"Yeah. This is-" The swinging doors spring open to reveal... only Haruo, the loud mouthed fryer. We continue to talk, barely noticing him.

"Yo!" The talking continues, only growing.

"Yo! Ladies! And dudes! Get the shit out of your ears and pay attention!" We all stop and stare at him. He scratches his stomach unattractively.

"Unfortunately, Keiichiro is busy. He says to go home, get some rest. No work for the rest of the week." We start to whisper.

"Why! But we get a lot of business during winter break!" Natsuko complains.

"What do I know? I'm just the messenger. Now get going!" He screams. We all sheepishly take our bags and file out the door. I catch Tasuku awkwardly by the arm.

"Are you walking home?" I ask. He stares at me for a moment, and I can feel my face being to flush.

"Uh, sure." He crouches down to unchain his bike from the fence outside, feet of his fellow workers crunching around him in the light snow. I stand quietly nearby, holding my breath. He slowly stands up, leading the bike down the path into the park. I stop abruptly.

"Eek. Wait, I forgot my cell phone," I say, groping around my pockets. He just stares at me again, his dark eyes blank.

"I'll wait here."

I run back inside, hopping up the steps of the darkened cafe. I scurry down the hall. This place scares me at night. The cute, cheerey wallpaper seems to grow dark, more demented. I bite my lip nervously as I quickly unlock my locker and grab my phone, slamming it shut loudly.

"What was that?" I freeze. The familiar voice is coming from down the hall.

"Nothing. Probably just the pipes. Just continue, please." The voice of Keiichiro is demanding and sharp. I turn back into the hallway, creeping as stealthily as I can. I can't believe I didn't notice the dim light shining from the crack of his office door. If he is here... why no meeting? I try to be as quiet as I can making my way down the hallway to the stairs. The meeting continues in hushed, worried voices, and I'm dying to know what they're saying, but I have to get going.

Of course, my natural curiosity take the best of me anyways.

I backtrack until I'm right against the door. I hold my breath and take a quick peek. As I recognize the figure in front of me, I gasp, almost dropping my phone. I hear the chair skid back, and the high-heeled figure step towards the door.

"Are you sure there's no one there?"

That's when the breath leaves me, and I hop down the stairs two at a time, nearly tripping. I land in the carpeted dining room breathless, the chandelier just barely shaking from my ruckus. I hope that they didn't see me, and I bound through the doors, out back into the light.

I burst outside, surprising Tasuku badly. I kneel down, panting, my eyes wide.

"What is wrong with you!" He yells at me. "You scared the shit out of me!" I breathe through my mouth, remembering the figure I saw sitting on the shiny oak chair in Keiichiro's office.

The black, almost purple haired figure, sitting with such elegance and poise. The one I saw double fisting booze last week in the tabloids, partying with Lindsay Lohan and hitting paparazzi in the face with their own cameras with little emotion.

Zakuro Fujiwara is in Mew Mew Cafe for the first time in four years.


	5. Update 2

Hello friends! I'm sorry I've been absent for so long. I feel like a dickface. I had regents, and projects, and plays, and gdlkjsfajsf. Anyway, I'm going to restart BOTH of my fanfictions, and am currently starting a third with the lovely TwoCentsForMalice!

Please, just wait a tad bit longer, and you will be rewarded greatly! Or hopefully greatly... at least rewarded mildly.


	6. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Pudding POV

"Heicha! Hanacha! Chincha! Lucha! Honcha! Hurry up and get your butts down here! It's dinner time!"

Heicha, as always, shows up first. She's so pretty, and happy, it kills me sometimes that she's going to start in a life like ours. Her golden hair, tied in two tight braids running down her shoulders, glimmers in the light as she walks into the steamy room of the kitchen. Her warm brown eyes regard the food placed on the table thoughtfully.

"But we had powdered curry last week, Pudding." I sigh.

"Yes, I know. But it's all we have this week too, so deal with it. Don't be a baby." Heicha looks clearly distressed by this, which makes me smile just a little bit.

"I'm not a baby. I'm ten! I'm a big girl."

I laugh, my body shaking while trying to simultaneously spoon the steaming hot rice and pour glasses of water for everyone.

"Call your brothers."

"Is Dad going to be eating with us tonight?"

"No. He's busy working in the dojo." I try to say this with as little emotion as possible. Heicha isn't dumb; she knows that we barely have money, and that the private lessons barely support the seven of us. But I don't want to worry her by sounding as distraught as I know I am. "I asked you to call your brothers."

Heicha gives a large, exasperated sigh, and overly dramatically says, "_Hanacha! Chincha! Lucha! Honcha!_", and then collapses on one of the seats.

My brothers slowly filter in. Hanacha makes a loud entrance as usual, with a giant smile that almost dwarfs Chincha who scuttles behind him. Lucha enters, reserved and thoughtful, holding a bear in one hand and a crayon in the other, and finally, Honcha screams his way in, rambling on about how Lucha stole his bear.

"Lucha-_Lucha!_Give Honcha his bear. Honcha, don't scream, and_don't put your feet in your food-_Chincha, get out from behind Hanacha. Heicha, get your brother out from behind Hanacha. Everyone calm down. I said calm down! Shush. Stop screaming Honcha. You're fine, it's not too spicy. No, we do not have any soy sauce. I told Heicha to buy some on the way home but she never did- Oh, I'm not blaming you, I'm just saying, we would have soy sauce if you had bought it- Lucha, stop taking his bear!"

Somehow, like every night, I manage to survive dinner. Hours later, I sit tiredly in the dining room, toying with the white cloth I used to wipe the table down from multiple, water, rice and curry spills, which is now, I suppose, less than white.

"I'll just rest my head... for a minute..." I gingerly place my head on the palm of my hand, and my eyes close slowly-

"Huang! Ms. Huang Bu-Ling!" I open my eyes, immediately alert, and jump up. "Calm down honey, it's just me. I look to the smiling, tired, red face of my father.

"Oh. Hey, Dad." I sit again, disorientated, my mouth dry.

"You know what time it is, right?"

"Oh, no... sorry."

"Don't be sorry to me! Be sorry to yourself. I found you in here, sleeping on the kitchen table at two o'clock in the morning! Must have been a pain for your neck. You have to take better care of yourself, Huang..." The rest of his pointless speech is lost to me as my eyes widen at the time.

"It's... two in the morning?"

"Yes. That's what I said."

I scramble up from my chair, fumbling around with the washcloth as I attempt to throw it in the sink.

"I'm going to bed. Goodnight! See you tomorrow."

"Oh, well-"

I close the door to the end of his sentence. Collapsing on my small cot, surrounded by Heicha and two of my brothers, I take out my school notebook and begin to write one of the two essays due in four hours. And after those, all I have to do is my algebra, trig, history and ethics homework.

"Crap." I mumble.

Sleep is all I can think of as I listlessly sit through English, and Algebra, and pretty much all my other tutor classes at the center. At the end of Earth Sciences, as she does every session, Ms. Itō looks up at me, and stares at me with her sweet, kind eyes. It pisses me off.

"Are you okay, Ms. Huang?" She smiles at me.

"Yes, I'm fine." I try not to look her in the eyes. I don't want her pity.

"I know, that you have a tough family life, and if you ever need to talk... well... I'm here." She fixes herself, sitting back in her chair and staring at me.

"I don't need to talk." Ms. Itō sighs again, and stares at me.

"Bu-Ling, I think we should talk."

I sigh, and look at the ceiling, spotted with water stains and peeling paint.

"I've been tutoring you for nearly all of winter break, even before that, but... you haven't seemed to improved, or try to work harder, or- You know, I give you this homework, these worksheets, the books, to help you catch up. You hardly seem to be doing that, Bu-Ling."

"I've just been really, really busy. I've told you this, every day we meet, Ms. Itō."

"I know, with your family situation, Bu-Ling."

"I told you, call me Pudding." Ms. Itō laughs as I say that. I hate it when she laughs at my name. No one calls me Bu-Ling, except my dad. And my dad barely sees me, so it's not like it's used a lot.

"Pudding? Why on Earth would you want to be called-"

"It's better than Bu-Ling." I scoff.

"Be proud of your Chinese heritage, Bu-Ling, it's something that defines you, something that makes you, you-"

"Please, stop lecturing me on how I act. I got the scholarship to this program so I don't fail school. You're done teaching, right?" I comeback, reproachfully.

Ms. Itō seems to stiffen as I speak, tightening her lips and straightening her skirt. She sighs, a deep, sad sigh, that makes me a little disappointed in myself every time I hear it.

"Fine, Bu-Ling. You may go."

I grab my bags and try to hustle out of there as fast as I can.

Of course, as I do every day, I go directly to the indoor track after tutoring.

My Dad thinks my tutoring is three hours a day opposed to the two hours it actually is, so it gives me an hour to just do whatever I want, which is a luxury I barely have, especially after school.

I usually have to go straight to the elementary school from high school to pick up my sister and brothers. Then, I go to work, I have to go home, cook them a dinner, make their lunches for tomorrow, do the laundry, help them with their homework, serve them dinner, clean the dishes, clean the house, put the little ones to bed, and then do all the homework and projects I was assigned for the day, while preparing a meal for my dad.

I thank God for the day Heicha can help with more of these things.

As I lace my ratty sneakers, I think about Heicha. She spends most of her time at other people's houses, not that our house is a gem, only two rooms and one bathroom, so it's understandable. But Heicha- she pretends like she lives their lives. She wants to have it easy, and she thinks she does. I do everything for her. I have to stop babying her, I know I do._Do I really want her to grow up like I did? Taking care of everyone, knowing that you're different?_

Then again, I also saved the world when was her age.

I stretch lightly before I take off. I start to run, faster, and faster, trying to think about the times in my life when all I had to worry about were aliens threatening the Earth.

I feel my limbs take control as I slow down to jog, taking my first lap in stride. I guess the jumping and running across rooftops thing never really left me.

I practice the high jump a couple of times, landing with a loud,"_Umph"_on the mat. I used to feel embarrassed running, but I've pretty much found the perfect time to run, somewhere between people coming home for work and professional bodybuilders coming into show off.

I try to only think about what happened when I was thirteen when I'm running. If I think about it too much, I think I'd realize how unimportant my life is compared to that now. How special I was back then, and how if I could, I would leave all of my life now behind to go and run on those rooftops again. To be special again, not just a housekeeper in a pack of six unruly kids.

As I land with one, final, air-knocking out of me,"_Umph."_, I remind myself that being the leader of six kids, growing up, is pretty important too, no matter how much I would like to make it seem worthless.


	7. Chapter 5

Mint POV

I wonder if it will stop snowing soon.

"And then Miss Adeline told_me_that_my_coordination was off! The nerve of that woman. I mean, I was accepted here. And I am_paying_her. I swear, if this was any other school…" I somehow managed to tune out Kana's incessant complaining, the same complaining she managed to make after every workshop we attended.

It was true, the Paris Ballet Opera School was hard, harder than any ballet I had ever done, but Kana should have known what she was getting into when she first auditioned for the Winter Workshop.

Even my body still slightly aches from the six hour intensive we had today, and I have to keep constantly adjusting myself so my legs didn't cry out in pain. Kana, of course, instead of just staying respectfully silent, like I do, she openly complains, not only in front of me, and the whole café, but also Miss Adeline herself, which doesn't help Kana or me in having a higher place in Miss Adeline's affections.

"And she_loooves_that stupid Demetria, who obviously only got accepted because her father donated money to the program- and have you seen her thighs? They're atrocious. She really needs to work out." Kana giggles slightly, covering her mouth with her hand.

I don't even really_like_Kana. I have no idea why I agreed to do this with her… and share a dorm with her…_or_eat lunch with her every day of the two week process…

"Mint?" Kana said, staring at me in annoyance. "Are you even listening? I was talking to you. It's really rude not to listen." I take a sip of my tea carefully, and place it back down on the wire surface of the café table.

"Yes. Of course I was listening." Kana rolls her eyes, and continues her rant.

Almost immediately, I again stop listening. Something about Kana's voice does it to me, the whining, wiry tone to it that just rubs me in the wrong way.

I inspect the snowflakes slowly falling down from the sky, trying to catch a glimpse of each one in it's uniqueness. They fall slowly in the Paris night, but all eventually meet with the thin layer of snow that's building on the street floor.

"… I can only_imagine_what that bitch will make us do tomorrow." Kana grumbled, taking a loud sip of her own tea.

I almost want to roll my eyes at Kana's comments. I remember when I was like her. I guess, it wasn't that long ago. Only five years. But saving the world, and nearly dying (with little to no recognition), can kind of change your outlook on the world.

The difference between me and Kana now was that I had grown out of the constant, snooty bitching stage of my life, and into, what I hoped was, was just a polite socialite.

"Oh, Kana, well your releveès are really quite off. Especially in the second half of the dance. Maybe you should pay attention to what Miss Adeline is saying." I say sweetly, the superior tone appearing in my voice.

Just because I grew out of it doesn't mean that I can't turn back on my bitchiness.

Kana blushes. Even though she doesn't act like it sometimes, I know she still looks up to me.

An awkward silence passes._Sure, I feel bad,_I think,_but at least it shut Kana up._

Kana grabs up the stupid tabloid she was reading, and flips through it again, her face still flushed, her eyes trained on the gossipy words in front of her.

"Zakuro is back in Japan." She chimes, flipping through the magazine again.

"What?" I exclaim, and grab the magazine from her.

The article has a grainy picture of Zakuro in the middle of it's coverage, Zakuro's purple scarf wrapped artfully around her neck, covering her face, while a dark, form-fitting pea coat covers the rest of her.

I squint at the picture, and then scan the article quickly.

"I thought she was still in Russia, yah know, filming that dumb spy movie. I mean, Zakuro obviously deserves a better part than that. I mean, I've talked with her, not as much as you, of course Mint, and she seems absolutely wonderful. She's a real beacon of an example as to what a true artist should be-"

I roll my eyes. "Yes, because getting arrested for drinking Champagne while both high_and_driving is a model example of human creativeness." Kana pouts slightly.

"She's an independent spirit, and a little bit of a bad girl. So what? I can see a little bit of myself in her, you know." Kana muses, stirring her tea lightly with her spoon.

"Kana, you wouldn't break a rule even if someone had a knife to your throat." I deadpanned, still focusing on the article.

"Uh- and what is that supposed to mean?" Kana sits up slightly, crossing her arms. I can tell she's offended. I look up from the magazine, and stare at her dead in the eyes.

"It means, dear Kana, that you don't have the balls to break the rules. You like to talk about it, sure but you wouldn't, even if you were paid to." Kana gasps, and I quickly gather my things together.

"Mint? Where are you going?" I hear her call after me. I nearly slip along the ground, but I manage to keep going at my quick speed.

"I have to call someone! I'll see you back at the room." I grimace slightly at the idea, thinking of seeing Kana with her terrible smelling face scrub, watching terrible television and complaining about the lack of tact in the lower classes.

I quickly hail a cab to the dorms, where the Academy was putting us up. As orderly as I can, I make my way up the stairs, my face still flushed from the cold outside.

No matter how much I try, I can't hide the excitement inside of me, and I feel the smile breaking on my face.

If Zakuro is back in Japan, in the middle of filming at that, it means that I can talk to her. And it probably means that she's visiting one of the old team members.

I slow slightly, thinking of the possibility that Zakuro is just back to visit family for an emergency, or to simply go to Japan.

But in the middle of filming?

I nearly want to take the stairs two at a time now; I'm getting very close to the phone on the third floor. My breaths become more labored and my smile is full now.

When I get to the phone, finally, I have to wait impatiently behind a small girl who seems to be blabbering on the phone in a strange, inconceivable stream of tween consciousness.

"And so I said to him, like, oh my_gawd_I legit cannot believe he would ever do that. Like, what the helllll!" She exclaimed into the phone. I rolled my eyes, and tapped her shoulder. She turned around, annoyed, but then saw my "no-shit" look.

"Oh… hey Aizawa." I stared at her, dead in the eyes.

"I need to use the phone. Please leave." My voice is crisp, and commanding, and and I remember, it really does feel good to boss people around.

"Oh… I was just… about to…. I mean, I'm in the middle…"

"Or else I'll tell Miss Adeline about you drinking in the bathroom. I mean, a fourteen year old, who is under her care? And an aspiring ballerina? It'll be a tragedy when you get sent home." I shook my head, tsking lightly. The girl's eyes froze, and she immediately hung up the phone, scurrying away.

I grabbed the phone; quickly dialing the number I know that would be active. I waited a few tense rings, but when no one picked up, I hung up, and immediately called again.

The phone rang twice, and then a familiar voice picked up.

"Ryou?" I asked, tentatively.


End file.
